


1760 BC

by NotASpaceAlien



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Short, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 20:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13888827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotASpaceAlien/pseuds/NotASpaceAlien
Summary: Sleeping with the enemy





	1760 BC

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr at http://not-a-space-alien.tumblr.com/post/171591873620/1760-bc

Aziraphale awoke.

Not all at once.  It was one of those groggy, mid-morning, hung-over wake-ups that inevitably make gravity’s pull feel a thousand times heavier.  Aziraphale was just experiencing one of these for the first time.  He was, in fact, just waking up from his first instance of sleeping at all.

And he all at once remembered it had been drug-induced.  That infuriating demon had come to him claiming humans had invented something new and grand called “wine,” and had brought over a few bottles of the stuff insisting that they try it together.

Things had always been amicable enough between the two of them, probably moreso than they should be, so Aziraphale had thought, well, what’s the harm in indulging just this once?

That had been a stupid, dreadful mistake.  Aziraphale could see that now.  Whatever was in that bottle had been drugged, and Aziraphale had tried to stay awake, but his mind and body had felt light and fuzzy and he had fallen asleep anyway.

Some nefarious plot had gone down while he had been out, he was sure.  He hadn’t opened his eyes yet.  He was afraid to see what havoc that demon had wreaked while he had been incapacitated.  It must have been something really, dreadfully bad if he had needed to keep Aziraphale preoccupied so he could have free reign.

And he had just been starting to think that maybe it would be all right to trust each other.

Aziraphale could also feel a weight on his lap.  He was even more afraid to find out what it was.  That was a scary thought.  What would a demon, his angelic nemesis out cold and vulnerable, do?  ...Put something on his lap?

He reached out and felt what was on his lap without opening his eyes.  It was warm and had hair.  It felt oddly like a human head.

Aziraphale could take it no longer.  He opened his eyes.  Only to see the demon Crowley lying in his lap, mouth half-open, drooling and snoring.

“Crowley?” said Aziraphale.

The demon snorted and seemed to become self-aware, pushing himself up off the angel and rubbing his eyes.  “Hm--What, what?”

“You were...sleeping on me.”

Crowley looked befuddled by the statement.  “Oh...So I was.”

They stared at each other.

“I, uh, didn’t know wine would do that,” said Crowley.

“Do what?”

“Make us pass out.  I didn’t know, actually.  Although I suppose I should have guessed...”

A beat passed.  Then another.  Aziraphale discovered that he didn’t really mind the idea at all, and tilted the bottle on the nightstand to see if it had anything left in it.


End file.
